


Dinner

by thesockmonster



Series: Cradle Of Hope [4]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Gen, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 22:51:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6927184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesockmonster/pseuds/thesockmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zitao's being watched.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner

The night air is sticky, clinging to Zitao’s skin uncomfortably. It’s only a short trip from the diner to his car, but he doesn’t like the flickering of the street light that leaves the parking lot doused in darkness. There’s a foreboding in his chest, one that has been building since the beginning of his shift.

The fine hairs on the back of his neck have been on end, his stomach clenched in a knot that won’t unravel because he swears someone is watching him. He can’t explain it. Zitao works as a second shift waiter - it’s not glamorous, but it helps with rent. As a waiter, he is used to being unnoticed unless someone needs something from him. Tonight wasn’t like that at all. Every time he stood and peered around the diner, there was no one, but he was so sure.

Zitao hefts his book bag higher on his shoulder, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly to calm his nerves. The parking lot is empty save for his clunker of a car on the furthest side. Employees aren’t allowed to park near the entrance.

He takes one step onto the asphalt and the light flickers out for a moment before a low buzz fills the air and lights the way again. A slow nausea burns its way through his stomach and upward, his heart pitter-pattering in his chest because this isn’t right. This doesn’t _feel_ right.

Zitao hastens his steps, his keys clutched tight in his fingers as his car grows larger in his vision. He’s almost there. Zitao’s hand is shaking when the key slides into the lock.

He doesn’t get the door open.

A sudden force clamps onto his shoulder and he’s spun, his back impacting against the door hard enough for pain to flare along his spine and up into his head. He lets out a soft noise, his defenses up as he prepares to fight back.

“Hello.”

The voice, crisp and clear, is unexpected. Zitao stares ahead at the man in front of him. He can’t be much older than Zitao himself, handsome in a devastating, disarming sort of way. When he smiles, Zitao’s heart stops. There’s something feral in his gaze and Zitao suddenly feels like prey.

“H-hi,” he answers. “Can I help you?”

“Maybe,” the man answers, rocking back on his heels. His smile is so beautiful, his teeth sinking into the lush, pink swell of his lower lip. “Can I have you for dinner?”

Zitao blinks. “For?”

The man steps forward and Zitao swallows, unable to move away. His fingers slide cold along Zitao’s neck, settling lightly over his pulse. “Yeah,” he whispers. “You look good enough to _eat_.”

 

They find Zitao’s car still in the lot in the morning. They never find Zitao.


End file.
